


Collision Course

by RWBYRealm



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Lance (Voltron), Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Klance Mulan AU, M/M, klance, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24908629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RWBYRealm/pseuds/RWBYRealm
Summary: Lance McClain is half-human half-altean, which means he's basically royalty.  Although it's in his blood, he can't help but think that he's meant for more than sipping tea and attending balls. That's not possible though as Alteans are forbidden from fighting in wars. Or are they? When the Galra starts their invasion of Altea and his little brother's drafted, he'll have to hide his Altean background and fight in his brother's place. He can only hope he won't be detected.Keith Kogane is half-human half-galra, which means he's had to fight tooth and claw for any semblance of respect. The galra are making their move and Keith has to stop them. His father, a human general, has entrusted Keith with training a group of soldiers for war.  Easier said than done, though. He's obviously got his work cut out for him. He can only hope his efforts are enough.When worlds collide, Keith and Lance'll have to fight for peace. Will they succeed? Will Altea fall to the galra? Is there something more going on between them? Only they can tell.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	1. The one where Lance is a mess

Usually, when people think of an Altean, a few words come to mind. Words like punctual, elegant, poised, high-and-mighty. Some would even go so far as to say 'superior.' Alteans were the definition of high-class. They were practically royalty, hell, Princess Allura was royalty. She ruled over Altea with a kind heart and an iron fist.

Now, you see, Alteans are supposed to be perfect. Supposed to walk straight, never supposed to have a doubt, never supposed to be late. And even though Lance is technically an Altean, he doesn't quite fit the status quo. For example, he's late.

He turns over in his bed, muttering something about 'sleeping-in' and 'beauty rest.' When the sunlight only seems to get brighter, he eventually does open his eyes. He blinks the sleep from them, sitting up groggily. What day was it?

He stretches, yawning. It was a good day to do nothing. A beautiful day, birds singing, flowers blooming. He'd probably feed Kaltenecker first. Kaltenecker was his pride and joy after all. She was also his cow. He could help Veronica around the house, help his Mama cook. Veronica was his sister, although not entirely blood-related.

After Lance's father died, his mum remarried a human. His new dad already had Veronica. It was nice, they bonded immediately over the fact both of them had a new parent. Then his mum and her dad had Marco. Her dad didn't stick around for long. He was a dick, in the words of Veronica. He left her in my mum's care and left. Lance's mum, bless her soul, decided she was well enough off enough to take care of the three of them. A half-human half-altean, a girl who had a problem with authority and a 12-year-old boy. Not to mention his Abuelita, who stays with them. Yeah, she had her hands full.

Lance's eyes adjust and immediately they focus onto the object in front of him. It was a mannequin dressed in blue robes. A gold crown sat atop its head. Only then did the pieces start to connect in Lance's head. Like a newly oiled clock, it started to tick, gears whirring all to deliver a single message to his consciousness.

"You're late."

His eyes shoot open and he scrambled out of bed, tugging off his shirt. Fuck, shit, hell. He practically rips the robe off the mannequin, wearing each layer dangerously quickly. It's a miracle the material doesn't tear with the sheer force of it. He grabs the crown, lowering it onto his head delicately. He looks into the mirror. He looked like a proper Altean, complete with the wealth and arrogance.

The wealth came courtesy of the state, ensuring he lived comfortably. He was thankful for it, he could support his family. At least he wasn't totally useless. As for arrogance, he did flirt with some girls now and then. A few guys too, he didn't discriminate. He tugs his blue boots up, cursing. He hops forward, opening his bedroom door. He glances at the clock. Did he have time to feed Kaltenecker? Better not risk it. He rushes past Veronica, grabbing his papers.

"V! Help me feed Kaltenecker! Bye Marco, Bye Abuelita, Bye V! Tell Mum I left!" he shouts, not stopping to hear her reply before bursting out of the house. He takes down the street. People clear the way for him, muttering a few 'not proper's and a 'half breed' here and there. It was fine, he only needed to be proper during the test. The test would grade him on manners, balance, etiquette and most importantly: punctuality. Right now? Right now he was failing.

Alteans were regarded as a higher species. Treated like royalty. They were separated by markings on their cheeks. Lance had blue ones, but anyone who had seen a proper Altean, like Princess Allura, could see that he was half-human. It was something about him that was off, perhaps it was the brown hair or his behaviour in general. The fact that he had round ears also probably accounted for something. Princess Allura was an actual royal. She overlooked all of Altea, keeping invaders like the Galra out.

The Galra were ruthless, claiming full cities and leaving destruction in their wake. They had taken Lance's father's life, after all.

He turns into the courtyard outside of the testing grounds. It was a small but grand building. White marble and polished wood. He notices that the instructor hasn't arrived yet. He still had a shot! If he passed, he'd be regarded as an Altean. No more mocking. He'd be like royalty. He lightly pushes his way through the crowd, running to his seat. He plops down, rearranging himself. He observes the Altean beside him, copying her posture.

Straight back, nose up, legs straight, hands on his lap. He's still heaving from the run when the Altean representative appears. He's already writing on his tablet, throwing a quick glance at everyone. He falters upon seeing Lance but does a good job at covering it up. Lance clenches his fists, exhaling slowly. Just pass the test and you're free. The man nods, clipping the tablet to his side.

"Lance McClain." Lance leaps up at his name, not graceful in the slightest. The man lifts an eyebrow. shit. He hurries inside, relieved to be away from the prying eyes. The doors shut behind him and worry begins to coil in his gut. He's faced with his first task. Eating etiquette. Shit.

~~~~~~

Meanwhile, on the other side of Altea, there's an ongoing meeting taking place. Inside the giant castle that Princess Allura calls home to be precise. She's consulting a group of generals and commanders.

"We could move some of the food from the North to the South. That way the surplus of food can be given to the less well off." She suggests, gesturing on the map table. A few of the generals nod and agree but a single voice interrupts.

"Princess, I think there's a better way to do this." "Keith! Sit down!" All eyes turn to face the figure. A 21-year-old boy wearing a suit of Galran Technology, black hair flowing into a mullet. Allura smiles. "It's okay, Commander Kogane. Keith, what do you suggest?" Keith's father nods once, allowing his son to speak. There are generals who glare at him, others who don't even bother listening. A side effect of being half-galra half-human.

His mother, Krolia, went rogue and joined the Altean military after the first invasion. She met his dad and one thing led to the next, Keith was born. Krolia was pretty busy on the Western side, arranging food distributions and all. Keith doesn't see her that much. The galran armour used to belong to her, and even though it caused muttering and dirty looks, Keith wore it with pride. The only people who mattered to him were Shiro, his Dad, Krolia, and his dog Kosmo. Shiro was like a brother to him. He was one of the youngest generals in the army, and always looked out for him. He never treated Keith as anything less than human. It was nice.

"We could distribute the food to both the South and the West. There's enough to feed the needy in both states." Allura nods, debating it. "Yes, it would appear you're right. I'll let Coran know to go with that plan once he's back." There were no Alteans at the table besides Allura. There was an Altean on standby, Romelle. She seemed to be a friend of Allura's. Coran was her royal advisor, he was nice too.

Alteans were forbidden to fight in any war. Their numbers were dwindling after all. To Keith, Alteans were stuck-up assholes who only looked out for themselves. With the exception of Princess Allura and her helpers, of course. They worked hard to ensure Altea had peace. The others were born with a silver spoon, already being given everything they'd ever want. But it had been like this even before Allura. Or so his father told him. He couldn't blame her for her parent's faults. Speaking of Coran, he bursts into the room, eyes frenzied. They all stand, chairs scraping against the floor. They all reach for a weapon before registering who it is. They relax.

"Coran! What is it?" Allura asks. He wheezes before straightening up.

"The Galra have passed the Eastern Altean Border!" He announces. The generals look at each other, muttering.

"They'll never make it to the castle, Coran. Come! Sit." she gestures. Coran shakes his head.

"No, princess. They're being led by Zarkon." Allura stiffens, fury burning in her eyes. Keith recognises the name. An Altean traitor. Shiro flinches slightly, clutching his metal arm. Everyone lost something in the war.

"Commander Kogane! Lead your men to cut them off. Coran, you need to get every spare set of hands possible. One or two per family! Go to the villages and cities. Shiro, follow Commander Kogane and set up a training site. The rest of you! Guard the borders and protect my people." she barks. Keith smiles slightly. It was impressive how quickly her demeanour changed. The generals all nod before being dismissed. Allura walks up to Shiro.

"Shiro. Take Keith. I'll join you in a bit." They whip around at that, Coran included.

"Princess?" Shiro asks. She meets his eyes, clenching her fists. "I refuse to sit idly by while my people are at risk!" Coran takes her hand, shaking his head. "We need you here to manage other affairs. We'll keep you updated, princess. Besides, Alteans are forbidden to fight." They take a step back at the pure menace she exudes at that. She sighs, however, deflating.

"You're right. Keep me updated, Shiro." Coran nods, gesturing for them to leave. Keith catches a glimpse of Allura hugging Romelle, burying her face in her shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut, wiping the image from his mind. War was no place for an Altean. If anyone tried it, they'd be exiled to make an example. Or worse.

~

Well, needless to say, Lance was blowing it. Big time. Not just on one test either, all of them. For table etiquette, he hadn't known which spoons to use, and he apparently cut into the food wrong. And he put his elbows on the table. The examiner had looked as if he wanted to explode. Then next came the balance test. Books were stacked onto his head and he was supposed to balance them all while walking. How in the hell was he supposed to do that? He got a good eight steps before the books fell. Backwards. Onto the examiner's head. God.

The final test hadn't even begun before the examiner had stopped him, saying something about 'ability to keep calm.' It wasn't his fault! It involved cooking! By the end of it, he was given back his papers.

"Let me try again! Please, I won't fail again-" He's interrupted by a hand in front of his face. "An Altean never begs. You'll never be one of us, half-breed." He practically spits. The door is opened and he storms out. He doesn't even acknowledge the people gasping and whispering. Half breed? He was so much more than that. Screw the Alteans and their stupid tests. He was perfectly fine with not being considered an Altean. but technically, he wasn't a human either. What was he? A disgrace, his mind helpfully supplied. He hears the distant sound of the next Altean being called in. Probably a perfect citizen. As if the world was mocking him, it started to rain.

He started running, murmuring apologies. He wouldn't cry. Why should he? They'll still send him money. After all, a half-altean is still altean. He just won't be registered as an Altean or a human. In terms of records, he didn't matter. Or exist. Whatever right?

he makes it back to his house, kicking off his boots. "Lance, mijo! How'd it go?" His mum asks. Lance only has to look at her before realisation blooms across her face. "Lance, it's fine." She says, consoling him. He shakes her off. "I'm just gonna go out to the garden for a bit. Don't wait up." He mutters, offering a small smile. He plops the papers onto the table, glaring at the red writing on them. Failed. He opens the door to the garden. He inhales a little.

It's raining lightly, but he welcomes it. He loves the water after all. He sits on the pathway next to their fish pond. He takes in his reflection. He glares at it, touching his cheeks lightly. If only he wasn't a half breed, apparently that's looked down upon. He splashes the water, scaring the fish.

It's fine. He's fine. He's more pissed than upset. All he had to do was balance books. His grandma sits next to him, lowering her hands into the water. "Abuelita, you should go back in. You'll fall sick." She scoffs, moving her hands around and attracting the fish.

"Nonsense. I'll be fine. You, on the other hand, you're not, Lance." She accuses, poking him lightly. He smiles slightly. "I'm not going to cry Abuelita."

"I know."

"It's just that I'm more than a half-breed."

"I know. Come! Help me make lunch." Lance laughs. His talks with her were always strangely uplifting. Just airing out his concerns. He stands up, helping her to her feet and throwing one last glance at the pond. The crown sits atop his head. He looks away. They walk back into the house together, comfortable silence between them.

There's a smell of chicken in the air and Lance licks his lips. He holds open the door for her before making his way to the kitchen. Veronica's seated at the table, talking on the phone animatedly. It's most likely her girlfriend, Axca. Veronica's a scholar and she's always busy writing history books. Almost at the same level as Alteans. It was impressive. Axca was a general, and was just as impressive; maybe even more so. She was Galran.

Fully Galra.

There was a handful of Galra who deviated and pledged loyalty to Altea instead. Axca was one of them. If being a half-breed was bad, being full Galra was worse. Lance had never seen a half-human half-galra. He wasn't sure if they'd be treated better or worse. Marco's busy playing a video game on his tablet. Lance smiles. At least he had his family.

A horn is sounded and Lance drops the ladle into the pot. He groans, turning off the heat. His mother looks fearful, his grandma even more so. He's confused and by the looks on their faces so are his siblings. Another horn is sounded and his mother leaps up from her seat. Lance notices she's holding his papers. She tosses them aside.

"Abuelita, stay here. The rest of you, follow me! Quickly, quickly!" she calls. Veronica hangs up, rushing after her mum, who's practically jogging. Marco soon follows, propelled by curiosity. Lance glances at his grandma. She's obviously not going to stay here. He takes her hand and slowly leads her out of the house. Men on what look like horses arrive. Did they not have vehicles? Everyone is gathering in the streets, citizens and shopkeepers alike. A man clears his throat.

"Can I have order? I am Coran, the Princess' advisor," he announces. A few people nod in recognition, some in awe. Lance wants to know why the Princess' advisor's here. Coran continues.

"The Galra have infiltrated our Eastern border." There's a gasp and a few people begin to shout in fear.

"Attention, please! By order of the Princess herself, we'll be drafting soldiers. One or two people from every human family, depending on who is eligible." Lance mentally goes down the list. Abuelita was too old to fight, so was his mum. "The Holt Family!" Veronica was as a scholar so she couldn't fight. "The Garett family!" He couldn't fight, he was Altean. That left-

"The McClain Family!" Marco. He just turned 12. He was of legal age to participate in the war. No. No, no, no. Marco walks forward, his legs shaking. People are whispering. Pity. So young. Won't survive. Condolences. No. He runs forward, stepping in between Marco and Coran.

"Let me fight in his place! Please! He just turned 12!" He begs. Coran's caught off guard but his face softens. "I'm sorry but you're part Altean. We can't allow you to fight," he apologises. Marco walks around him, taking the assignment. His eyes are glossy. Lance is desperate.

"I'm half-human. Please." People are whispering, muttering. He can hear Veronica whispering for him to stop. He doesn't care. Coran looks sympathetic. "I'm sorry. If you fight in the war, you'll be killed for endangering the lives of others." He steps back slightly. He pales. He wasn't joking. He bows, apologising. He shakily takes Marco's hand. The whispers never fade, even as a single tear rolls down his face. They walk back, his Mum embracing Marco tightly.

Waste. Half-breed. An Altean never begs. He screws his eyes shut, focusing on leading Marco through the crowd.

They forget lunch. His mum hugs Marco until he's cried himself to sleep, tucking him in all while tears roll down his face. Veronica and his Mum get into a screaming match. It's still audible even after Lance closes his bedroom door. He looks in the mirror, lightly touching the markings on his face. The crown's mocking him. It's shining, jewels sparkling. People put in the effort to make it, hoping to see it on an Altean. But a half-breed got it.

Lance rips it out of his hair, throwing it at the wall. All he had was family and they were taking it away. Marco wouldn't survive. He was a kid! Granted, Lance was only 18 but his chances of survival were infinitely higher. Still pretty low, but higher. Stupid markings, stupid Coran, stupid Galra! He sits down, burying his face in his hands. He's not letting Marco die in vain. He's already decided to go instead. But how?

The screaming dies down and he hears Veronica slam her door shut. His mother then shuts her own door. Abuelita was probably with Marco. He formulates a plan, smiling.

Lance takes a piece of paper and a pen, writing out a note. He writes his apologies and his requests. Comfort Marco, tell him it's not his fault. Feed Kaltenecker. I promise I'll be home. No. He erases it. I'll try my best to come home. He folds it, picking his crown up from the floor. Right. Now for the tricky part.

He changes into jeans and a white shirt with blue sleeves. He puts on a brown jacket with a hood. Perfect. He smiles in the mirror. It falls. He picks up the crown from the corner of his room. He sneaks out of his room once nightfalls. Everyone skipped dinner. No one had any appetite anyway. He tiptoes and chooses to assume everyone's asleep.

He opens his mother's room door, thanking the gods as he finds her snoring softly. He places the note down on the table, placing the crown to weigh it down. He takes the assignment letter, putting it into his pocket. Okay, next up. Foundation.

He carefully opens her make-up drawer, freezing when she shifts. He exhales slowly, reaching in and digging around. He rifles through it, looking for his skin tone. There! He pulls it out, examining it. It was a decent size. Plus, there was probably a few stops on the way to wherever the army was going. He shuts the cabinet door, placing it in his pocket as well. He needed a bag. He backtracks out of the room, smiling softly at his mum.

"Love you, Mama." He whispers. He shuts the door behind him. He turns around, bumping straight into his Abuelita. He flinches so hard his skeleton almost leaves his body.

"Abuelita! Why're you awake?" he asks, shifting from foot to foot. She sighs, shaking her head. "Making sure you don't get killed. Come, I packed a bag for you. Make sure to say goodbye to Kaltenecker and your siblings." She says. Simple. She looks sad though and Lance wants to tell her he's not going anywhere. But he is. And chances are he's not coming back. Lance follows her to her room. She gives him a bag and hugs him tightly, inhaling.

"Be safe, Lance." She kisses his forehead. He smiles, leaving the room. He stops by Veronica's room next. She's asleep too. "Night Veronica, feed Kaltenecker for me." He wishes.

He can't bear to stay in the room for too long. Marco'd beat himself up over this. He kisses his brother's forehead, willing back tears. "It's better if it's me, Marco. Be happy." He shuts the door, breathing deeply. He wouldn't cry. He keeps the letter in his bag, holding his foundation. Might as well do it with Kaltenecker.

He heads to the garden, spotting Kaltenecker. The night sky creates a brilliant reflection on the pond's surface. It's a beautiful sight. If it was literally any other day, he'd sit down and fall asleep. Not today though. He rushes to her, wrapping his arms around her neck. She moos.

"I don't know if I'll be back, girl. Veronica'll take care of you." He reassures her. She moos, not really caring in the slightest. He sits by her, putting on the foundation. He places the bag at his side, patting it. The armour and weapons would be provided. Hopefully. Would he be killed it he showed up empty-handed? Maybe he'd be sent home. That would be cool.

He closes the foundation bottle, putting it in the bag. He crawls over to the edge of the pond, peering in. His eyes widen. He reaches up and lightly touches his cheeks. Holy cow. It worked. He looked human. As in, fully-human. He raises his hands to the sky in a triumphant double fist-bump... only to lose his balance.

He falls in the pond with a shrill shriek. The water splashes up around him, startling Kaltenecker. The perfect reflection of the stars wavers for a bit. Lance resurfaces almost immediately, clambering onto the bank. He gasps, rolling onto his back. Great. He was wet. It'd hopefully dry on the way to the training camp, it was a long walk after all. I mean, he could ride a car but half of it had to be on foot anyway. Might as well. Lesser risk of being recognised by the other citizens. 

He looks at his reflection, groaning. It wasn't waterproof? The foundation runs, giving way to blue marks. Great. He'd have to touch it up. He walks back to Kaltenecker, hugging her one last time before slinging the bag over his shoulder. He slips a piece of cloth out of his front pocket, wiping away the leftover foundation. He fetches the bottle, spreading it across his cheeks. The sooner he was disguised, the better it'd be. 

Lance walks away from his home, brain begging him to turn back. His feet continue, propelled by the thought that if he didn't go, Marco would. His feet first touch the road and he keeps the bottle away. His walk is illuminated by the streetlamps, not a single soul in sight. A perk of leaving at the ass crack of dawn. He sighs, throwing one last look at his now distant house. He smiles; it's a little bitter but he can't bring himself to grin properly. He continues his trek down the cement road, the night sky above him dotted with a million stars.


	2. The One where Lance is Confused

Lance kicks a branch out of the way, cursing. His feet hurt. He winces, clutching his foot. Okay, maybe kicking a tree branch with already sore feet was not helping him. He glares at the offending piece of wood, hard. As if it would light on fire by the sheer power of it. He steps over another particularly big tree trunk, grunting. 

In case it's not clear, he's in a forest. It's not completely dark as the trees are quite far apart but it's littered with branches. And stones. And bugs. It was definitely a change from the city he grew up in; Garrison. In Garrison, there were pathways and lights and not a lot of bugs. There were other people and there were signs showing him where to go. Here? Here he was on his own. 

He'd been walking for at least five hours. He first started at night and now it was the first light of day. He'd gone over hills, through streams and now through a forest to avoid being detected. He was beginning to regret not taking a car. There were official vehicles to take them there but enclosed spaces with a high probability of someone accidentally wiping off his foundation? He'd pass. At least for now, he chooses life. 

He keeps his flashlight back into his bag, clasping it shut. He can see the sun rising through the forest. If he follows that he won't go off course. His stomach grumbles and he groans. He should have packed food. He had looked through the bag Abuelita had packed but besides a spare set of clothes and some other necessities, there was nothing. Which included no food. He'd kill for some chicken rice. He's brought back to reality when he trips on a rock. He yells in frustration, turning around to kick it. 

He spends the next minute hopping around clutching his foot. 

Once he's done, he starts to wonder how long he had left. When would he arrive? He opens the assignment, looking at the coordinates. He was going in the right direction, right? He pulls out a compass to reassure himself before realising he was an Altean who never needed to use a compass before and had no idea on how to read it. He hadn't taken any turns, so he was probably going in the right direction. Still, he could go off course. Maybe he already had! That's enough Lance. You're fine. Just make it to the other side of this forest. Follow the road. If there are roads. Fuck what if there weren't any roads?

He slaps himself, shaking his head. He'd be fine. It's not like he'll be exposed immediately because of a super high-tech Altean scanning device. He stops walking, starting to panic. What if they did have that? Would he be sent home? Killed? Would they drag Marco out in his place? He gulps. 

Was leaving a good decision? He usually helped Abuelita cook, would Marco help in his place? Would they forget about him? He shakes his head. No. They were family and they loved him. He was being paranoid; he needed to stop thinking so much or he'd turn around. He resumes walking, cursing when his jeans snag on a branch. He bends down, unhooking it. Veronica would take care of them. Hopefully, she'd call Axca to help. Not that he doubted that she would be able to handle it on her own, no way. It's just that the company might take their minds off his absence. Yeah, Veronica'd take care of them. She was older, far more qualified. It'd be fine. 

He looks up, squinting beyond the trees. Huh. That's weird. He couldn't see the sun. He looks at the ground and how the shadows were too clumped together to make out which way they truly went. He couldn't find the sun either. Huh. He tries looking up at the sky but the trees' leaves block most of his view. Which way had the sun come up? Better yet, where was the sun? Had he gotten turned around? He's taking it better than expected, at least.

Then the panic sets in. He whirls around, trying to find something familiar. Shit shit shit. Where was he? Where was the camp? Hell, where was the sun? He decides to do what any panicked person would, and that's run in a straight line in the direction he was going. He'd eventually make it out of the forest. What if he came out back in Garrison? Fuck. He speeds up, sore feet long forgotten. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead. He periodically swipes it away. His knees start to tremble and he can see the end. But there's no camp in sight. He collapses, legs finally giving out. 

Lance gasps for breath, lungs tight. What am I going to do? He couldn't be late, or worse, not arrive at all. He'd stand out. They'd keep an eye on him more. One wrong move and he was dead. He starts to hyperventilate, clutching his sides. 

"Abuelita, Mama, what do I do?" he asks, resting his forehead on the damp ground. His heart is hammering so loudly in his chest he feels the ground shake. He scrunches his eyes shut, breathing in and out slowly. Panicking wouldn't do anything. He should find his bearings and get back en route. He looks up, at the sunless sky beyond the last row of trees. Was he going in the entirely wrong direction? Was it too late? He yells in frustration, slamming his clenched fist on the ground. No, no. For Marco. The hammering grows louder and louder although his breathing starts to stabilise. He's confused. That's not supposed to happen.

Oh god was he dying? He stands awkwardly, legs still shaky. He places a hand over his heart. No, his heart was beating at a much slower pace. What was that rumbling sound then? Why was it getting closer? The rocks start to tremble and he peeks out of the trees, gasping at the sight. Holy shit. Military vehicles. Beneath him. The clouds move and the sun shines brightly down at him. He glares at it. Who did it think it was making me panic like that? He exhales, focusing on the vehicles instead.

It's obvious they're Altean military vehicles. The white sleek design, the blue windows. Lance's entire face brightens. It's a road. He's close! He crouches down lower to the ground. There were ten vehicles in total, driving in a single line. The dirt spirals up and Lance wheezes, coughing. Each one of those cars was chock full of people. Thank god he hadn't taken the vehicles. Sweat + Make-up that wasn't waterproof? How long would he have lasted? He waits until the rumbling stops before leaping out from his cover. He slides down the side of the hill onto the dirt road, sighing. He hikes his bag higher on his soldiers, smiling.

Alright. He had a few hours left. He could do this. He takes off down the road, dirt kicking up behind him. It's freeing.

~•~

The sun's starting to go down when he catches sight of the camp. Well, camp isn't a very good word for it. It's a huge complex fit to house hundreds of people. Lance wants to run the rest of the way but his feet are so sore and he will collapse. He groans, dropping forward. Hopefully they didn't start the training right away. He knows there's a war going on and all but if he's asked to run he's pretty sure he'll faint. As he walks closer, he starts to panic a little. How would he make a good first impression? Hello! My name's Lance! How are you? Was that too outgoing? Should he try a more intimidating greeting? Yo, the name's Lance McClain. He shakes his head. No that would definitely lead to him making a fool of himself. 

Just be yourself. Yeah, right. He didn't know how to make new friends! He only had his family! Maybe he'd be a natural at it. That just seemed like wishful thinking though. Maybe everyone there was nice and they'd all get along! How did the military system work anyway? He shrugs, picking up the pace slightly. The sun was setting, the roll call would be soon.

He does make it there and he's not even dead last. Up close, the complex looks even bigger. It's out in the middle of nowhere, so there's a lot of space. Apparently there was a small town little ways west but he couldn't see it in his line of view. Little ways must be quite far then. He moves forward, trying to find his spot. There were markers everywhere, some already gathering behind them. James Griffin, Wright. McClain! He jogs over to his spot, sitting down. He sighs in relief, letting go of his bag. The man beside him snorts at him; it's not in a disrespectful way though, as he's smiling.

"Did you walk here?" he asks, jokingly. Lance nods. His eyes widen a little before he lets out a low whistle. "Your feet must be killing you- McClain." Lance smiles, shaking his head. "Yeah, not my wisest decision. I'm Lance." He greets. He outstretches his hand for the other man to take. 

"Adam." Adam shakes it, before going back to watching the trickle of recruits. Surprisingly, there aren't that many in this particular camp. There were probably others out there. He starts to get a little nervous as the sun starts to go down. More and more people come in. That's a lot of people, his mind pipes up. No shit. Not thousand, or five hundred for that matter, but at least 200 people. He watches as three people make a beeline for him. 

He obviously panics. Did he already get found out? Nice job, Lance. You idiot. Apparently not because they take their places right beside him. He decides to turn on his natural charm (because apparently he had that). 

"Hi! I'm Lance. You are?" The man, who's about his age, smiles widely. "Hi! Hunk Garett. Geez, there's a lot of people huh?" Lance smiles. At least the people were friendly here.

"Yeah, loads. Didn't expect this many." He replies, talking animatedly. They dive into a conversation. Apparently Hunk's from Garrison too. Garett did seem familiar to Lance somehow. Must have been when they were calling names. In the middle of said conversation, a shorter person taps Hunk's shoulder.

"Hey, Hunk! You gonna introduce us?" he asks. Hunk smiles, sidestepping so Lance can see them. They look similar, like siblings. 

"Right! Lance, this is Katie Holt. You can call her Pidge though. That's her brother Matt." Oh, she was a girl! Oops. She looked younger than him which tugged at his heartstrings. Their parents must be worried sick.

"Hi! So, how do you think this is gonna go?" he asks. They give him a weird look, glancing at each other.

"Do- do you not know how war camps work? It's pretty basic knowledge." fuck fuck fuck.

"I was just joking!" He laughs. The others join in as well and Lance almost sighs in relief. What was he thinking? He decides to stop talking with them in case he gave himself away. Were their educations really that different? Did Marco learn how this worked? Damn, he should have brought some books. 

"Wait, Lance, you're from Garrison too? Did you see the half-altean?" Lance's blood runs cold. It's fine. They probably overheard you trying to volunteer. They didn't see you, probably forgot your voice. He smiles awkwardly, shaking his head. "Nope. He caused quite a fiasco though, huh?" He jokes. Hunk nods.

"Yeah. I mean I feel bad for him too, what was the family name again?" He asks, scratching his head. Lance interrupts his thoughts before he remembers anything. "Beats me. Besides, what are the chances the family'll be assigned here?" he asks. Hunk laughs lightly. "Yeah, you're right."

"Imagine if the Altean went to war though," Pidge speculates. Lance does everything in his power not to run. Or beg her to shut up. Or just disintegrate into thin air. Adam overhears this and joins in; he turns to face them.

"It'd be chaos. They wouldn't know how anything worked and they'd be eventually found out and killed." Fuck. Killed? His slow descent into madness is cut short as a trumpet is blown. Now Lance may not be fully human but he has enough experience to know he shouldn't be sitting down for this. He flies to his feet, standing straight. 

He looks at his surroundings. Everyone seems to be looking straight ahead; not him though, he looks at the source of the noise. He inhales sharply, standing at attention and staring ahead. It was Coran. Crap. Coran walks down the lines, nodding at the recruits. Lance clenches his fists at his sides, willing his heartbeat to slow the fuck down. He can hear the footsteps getting closer. He takes deep breaths, wiping the sweat from his brow. 

Coran walks in front of him, peering at him. Lance freezes, heart definitely not slowing down. He keeps his eyes forward though.

"Do I know you?" he asks. "Uh, n-no. sir," he adds, not knowing if that was the proper procedure or not. Coran strokes his orange moustache, staring.

"Could've sworn I've seen you before." God, he doesn't give up! Lance shrugs. Coran replies with a shrug of his own. "Oh, well. Recruits! Listen up!" He shouts aloud. All conversation dies down as all eyes turn to face him. Lance exhales slowly, watching as the advisor takes his place at the entrance of the building. 

"Greetings! My name is Coran, you can simply address me like that. I'll be going through some basics while waiting for the General." He yells. There's something about his posture and his tone that makes Lance relax. It isn't nearly as formal as he thought it would be. Coran cracks jokes and people laugh. It's actually pretty nice. He smiles, loosening up a little.

"Right! Living requirements. You'll have a room to yourself for now. The room assignments will be given out right after this. You can do whatever you want in your room but you should all be in your respective rooms by midnight. We are training, after all; you need your rest." Lance sighs in relief. Thank god. He could reapply his make-up in peace. Speaking of, this was some heavy-duty stuff. As long as he wasn't rained on, he'd be fine! Sweat had no affect apparently. He wipes the sweat from his cheek, sighing in relief. No makeup stains on his hand. 

"After training hours, you can go to the nearby town, Olkarion, to shop. Or work. You do need money to shop. Hm. I'll ask the Commander to provide cards for each of you with an allowance. Maybe that'll work." Coran starts to speak to himself, turning around and tapping his foot. He's mumbling and stroking his moustache. Everyone leans forward a little, trying to hear. He whirls around and everyone snaps back.

"Right food! You can either cook your own meals or head to the community kitchen. Each section has its own assigned kitchen." Lance's eyebrow raises. Okay, this was a little too good to be true. Was this a training camp or a hotel? Coran's apparently reading his mind because he responds.

"This may seem like a dream but we believe in keeping our soldiers taken care of. Besides, the rigorous training'll definitely balance the luxuries out." There's a simultaneous groan and Coran beams.

"Finally! Weapons! We'll be-" He's cut off by the sound of an engine rumbling. Everyone turns to look at the source. It's a white military vehicle, larger than the ones everyone else came in. It makes its way past the entrance, driving past Lance. He tries to peer in through the blue-tinted windows. Adam stops him. He shakes his head. Right, the people inside the car were probably stricter than Coran. Lance straightens up, mouthing thanks. Adam nods but doesn't say anything more. The vehicle stops beside Coran. Its engine cuts. All the recruits wait with bated breath, watching. 

The door opens and a, he's not kidding, a wolf leaps out. Not a regular wolf either. It must have come from outside of Altea. It has blue markings, yellow eyes and bluish-grey fur. It's both adorable and terrifying. And it's looking straight at him. Lance is internally panicking but it'd probably look bad if he were to run. Imagine! A potential soldier running from a wolf. It stalks closer, looking up at him. Hunk discreetly scooches away. Traitor, Lance glares. Hunk shrugs.

Everyone's watching it, and by default: him. So much for laying low. The wolf curls around his legs, rubbing. Was it a wolf or a cat? He pets it hesitantly before giving in and providing a full scratch down. The wolf wags its tail and Lance smiles. Someone clears their throat and he looks up back towards the vehicle. There're two new people. He rips his hands away, straightening. shit. The wolf whines and keeps nudging at his foot. 

The first new person looks strict but there's a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He has a tuft of white hair hanging at the front of his face and a scar on his nose. He wears a suit of black armour with black markings. Overall, he looks like someone who's strict during work but relaxed after. The other person though looks like he's strict all the time. He has brown hair and thick eyebrows set in a glare, which is fixated on Lance. Oh, come on!

"Keith! Call Kosmo back." The man calls. Kosmo looks back at the sound of his name but doesn't make any effort to return. A boy not much older than Lance himself steps out of the vehicle. Immediately there are gasps and whispers, much to the person's irritation. His eyes meet Lance's and they both freeze. The boy's eyes drift towards Kosmo. Kosmo, bless his fluffy soul, is rubbing against his hand while whining; probably wanting pets. 

Keith, was that his name? Keith whistles and only then does Kosmo finally stop before bounding back. Lance takes in his appearance. He has a scar on his right cheek, which must have hurt. Long black hair flowing into a mullet, similarly black eyes. What shocked Lance was his armour. It contrasted with the white and grey military armour he was used to seeing. Keith's was mostly dark purple with glowing magenta accents. Keith strokes Kosmo, staring at Lance curiously. Seriously, Lance? Petting the dog? Might as well have cooed.

"Right. Thank you, Keith. My name is Commander Kogane." He introduces himself. "You won't be seeing me around as I'm leaving with my men tonight. In my place, General Shiro will be in charge." Lance hears Adam scoff, a 'figures' being muttered. The commander continues. "With the general, Keith will help to oversee your training." The whispers kick up again. Lance is hopelessly confused but he doesn't ask. 

Thankfully, he doesn't need to. Someone beside Adam is talking loudly, although quiet enough that it doesn't reach the Commander's ears. Adam's gritting his teeth but doesn't say anything. Lance's eyes widen. Half-galra scum. Lance whips to look at Keith, watching the barely contained wrath. Lance puffs out a breath in realisation. He's like me.

A half-galra half-human. They existed! And Keith was one. He wasn't the only one! Maybe he could just reveal himself. But no, Galra weren't forbidden from fighting in wars. Keith was perfectly fine. Being a half-breed and climbing to the top, where you get to train humans? How hard had Keith worked to achieve this? He can only stare in awe, mouth agape. Hunk gets the wrong idea though and pushes his mouth shut.

"Stop staring at him, it wasn't his choice." Lance almost laughs at that. "Yeah, I know Hunk. I'm not mocking him. I think it's amazing." He clarifies, only wrenching his eyes away when the commander nods to Shiro. He ruffles Keith's hair, face dissolving into a soft grin. Woah. Okay. Maybe he isn't serious all the time. Keith smiles sadly, saying something in return. The commander says something before turning away and disappearing into the vehicle. It starts up before zooming down the dirt path. Keith shakes himself, stepping forward. 

Lance notices that some of the recruits are less than happy that he's in a position of power higher than them. Lance is thrilled though. There's someone like him! Not that Keith could ever know, of course. But still. He wasn't the only one in Altea.

"Alright. Follow me." He orders. Lance, Hunk, Pidge, Matt and Adam step forward, walking a few steps before realising everyone else hadn't moved, still grumbling at their places. Shiro sighs and steps forward. Lance swears Adam hides his face by looking away.

"Hey! Keith's co-in charge. I don't care what kind of prejudices you carry but Keith's word is final. Move it!" He shouts. The rest of the recruits jog forward to meet them. Someone loops their arm around Lance's shoulder. he almost flinches but keeps his cool. He doesn't recognise the person. He had brown hair that was parted to the left.

"Why'd you move forward?" The man asks. Lance shrugs, making the hand on the shoulder drop. The man halts for a millisecond before continuing. "I'm James Griffin, you can call me James." There was something about him that got on Lance's nerves. He forces a smile. "Lance." He quickly slips back in between Hunk and Pidge, gaping at the building. It looked bigger on the inside! Why'd it look bigger on the inside?! Lance gasps as he spots a sleek black motorbike discreetly tucked into the corner. It had fans instead of wheels. He practically drools, wandering over to it. Hunk grabs his hoodie and spins him right back though. 

They've only known him for a good half an hour and they're already picking up on his impulse control. Lance smiles at him and Hunk laughs back. A warm feeling spreads through him. Was this what having friends was like? They walk through the building, buzzing. Most of them were teenagers being drafted, parents too old to fight. They walk past the different sectors where Coran explains the different sections will be staying at. So they were dividing the army into groups. Sounds smart in theory but wouldn't that mean fewer people in a group? There are so many things Lance finds amazing but no one else blinks an eye at. He didn't dare ask. What if it was a basic thing they were taught since birth? He bumps into Hunk's back. They've stopped walking.

"Alright, cadets! Listen up!" A platform is raised. Three similar weapons with different colours rest on them. This time everyone's in awe. "These are bayards. They're special weapons that'll be given to the elite section. Form a line! I want everyone to raise their hand above each one. If you're chosen, it'll fly into your hand." Shiro explains. Keith holds up the red one, much to most of the crowd's dismay. Lance hears Griffin scoff and his dislike only deepens. Shiro in turn raises a black one using his mechanic arm. He had a mechanic arm? That was sick! 

"The red bayard has already chosen Keith. And the black bayard has chosen me. The others will pick those with the most potential." He clarifies. They line up in a single file, starting to take turns running their hand over the weapons. Lance sighs. It's cool. He wouldn't be chosen and he'd be able to lie low. 

He looks up upon hearing Pidge's excited gasp, watching as the green bayard flies into her hand. She turns to Matt, chattering excitedly. The tip of her bayard sparks. Next up is Griffin. He runs his hand over them, doing it again when none fly into his hand. In the end, Shiro has to make him move along. Lance smiles slightly; he then shakes it from his face as Hunk goes next. After Hunk, it'll be his turn. Before Adam's, of course. Speaking of Adam, he seems stiff. Lance turns around to meet his eyes.

"Hey, it's fine. I'm sure you'll get one." He assures. Adam doesn't say anything but nods his head in acknowledgement. "Woah!" Hunk cries out as his bayard promptly transforms into a machine gun. Pidge gasps, hurling questions at Shiro; he's simply smiling awkwardly. Hunk moves to stand beside Pidge as his bayard reverts to its original shape. A cute 'V' thing. Lance gulps, walking to the desk. Only one remained, a blue bayard. He could feel eyes boring into the back of his neck. He smiles awkwardly, raising his hand. He can feel Shiro and Keith watching him. God this is stressful. 

He quickly swoops it over the top, startling Shiro. Said Shiro laughs. "A little slower, cadet." He gulps, doing it again. It feels like lightning shooting down his spine. He gasps, jolting. The bayard leaps into his hand. It glows and morphs into a gun. He stumbles back, eyes wide. It just accepted an Altean? How? Why? Wasn't it a weapon? There was still electricity crackling through his bones. Oh, come on! Shiro nods, smiling. Keith, however? Keith glares at him. What was his problem? 

Lance didn't have time to unpack all of that. He's currently busy having a crisis. Really, Lance? You had one job! Just the one! He feels those stares turn into glares as he shuffles over to his friends. They congratulate him and the bayard returns back to its V shape. He turns it over in his hand, mind numb. Eyes were going to be on him at all times. He couldn't afford to make a mistake. 

He hears Coran ask the others to choose a normal weapon from a different rack. He sees Adam and Shiro make eye contact for a split second before Adam disappears back into the crowd. He watches Shiro's face contort into hurt, shock and sorrow all at once. Keith looks concerned. He's asking something. Lance snaps out of it when Hunk claps his shoulder, inviting him out for dinner with Pidge. He shakes his head. He was so tired. 

Shiro and Keith walk up to them and they all straighten up. " none of that, now. We're a team now. I'm Shiro. This is Keith. What're your names?" he asks. Lance sees Coran dividing the rest of the groups up behind Shiro. He shouts at them to have some fun before training begins. 

"I'm Pidge." "Hunk." "Lance McClain, at your service." For extra brownie points, he bows; throwing a wink in Keith's direction. Keith looks more confused than flustered. Lance stands back up, watching the way Shiro's mouth curls up a little. That's a win in his books.

"Alright, alright. Congratulations on making it to Team Voltron. We'll be having special training in addition to regular training so I hope you're up for it." There's a simultaneous groan but Shiro ignores them. "Gather back here at 6 AM. Alright, dismissed. Before you go!" he shouts, stopping Pidge and Hunk in their tracks. He tosses each of them a key. "Those are your own rooms, you'll find them in this sector." Lance looks down the hallway, smiling. He had friends. It was weird even thinking about it. Hopefully, he'd even befriend Shiro and Keith. 

Pidge and Hunk book it for the camp's vehicles, probably heading to town. Lance stretches and groans when he feels something pop. Since this was their section of the building, it shouldn't be that hard to find his dorms. He'd unpack, shower and get some good sleep. He walks down the corridor, turning over the key in his hand. It should be the one with a blue 'V' on it. 

If it's according to their bayard colour, then it's safe to assume that it's the rest of their bedrooms that he passes by first. Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Lance! That was his! He jogs up to it, fumbling with the key. He's already dislodging the bag from his shoulder. I probably have a dent in my bones from carrying it around everywhere. Like seriously! What's in this thing? He inserts it into the keyhole, turning the handle. God he couldn't wait to wipe off this stupid makeup and just sle-

"Lance, hold on." Fuck me. He turns around just to be met with a very familiar face. Kosmo practically leaps on him. He falls to the ground, laughing. He ruffles up the wolf's fur, much to the animal's delight. He spots Keith leaning against a door opposite him. He squints at the exterior; his eyes widen when he spots a red 'V'. Of course! He's the universe's biggest joke! The person who's the most suspicious of him (and'll probably be the one to find out first, if any of them do) sleeps across the hall from him. Brilliant. Fucking peachy. Keith looks down at the rolling wolf.

"He's not usually that friendly." Keith states. He doesn't say anything more. He's waiting for an explanation. Is it cause Lance is an altean? Did he have the power to be really good with animals? Is that why Kaltenecker likes him? Frick frick frick. 

Lance strikes a pose. "It's probably cause I'm irresistible." He smiles flirtatiously. This does not make Keith flustered at all. Instead, he scowls. "We're training to fight in a war, Lance. Get your head in the game. We don't have time for you to flirt." He snaps. Lance starts to get defensive. "Oh, I'm sorry Mister My Chemically Unbalanced Romance! Excuse me for trying to lighten the mood!" He snaps right back. They glare at each other for another minute, Kosmo pacing back and forth between them. Lance looks away first, storming into his room and locking the door behind him. He sighs, running his hand down his face. Crap he just shouted at a superior.

So what? The dude's like an inch taller than you. Yeah, and he's probably had way more experience beating people up! He takes in the room. It's not bad. The bed's pretty comfy, there's a desk, a hook for clothes and oh god a private shower thank the gods. He sets his bag down on his bed, turning it upside down. Its contents spill out.

Hm, okay. Basic stuff. Makeup, a compass, a spare set of clothes, flashlight, shower supplies. He shakes it one last time and something else falls out. His phone! He bites his lip, switching it on. There's a string of messages from each one of his family members. He winces, switching it back off. Sorry guys. I'm too tired for that today. He takes off his clothes, sliding them to the ground. He scoops them up. 

He hums while switching on the sink. He pushes the clothes underneath the running water. He sighs in relief. Clean clothes. No dirt poking him everywhere. Bless this room. He rushes out once more to grab his makeup and shower supplies before disappearing into the bathroom again. Alright, there's no bathtub (although that would be ridiculous if there was) but there is a standing shower. He'll take it. He places the makeup on the sink and jumps into the shower.

He stands at the side, watching the handles suspiciously. He turns a knob to the side and yelps as the cold water hits him directly. It's freezing! He quickly turns the other knob, tiptoeing around the spray of water. He carefully outstretches his hand into the spray, smiling when it's slightly warmer. He steps in. He doesn't feel sticky anymore, thank god. He scrubs his face, taking the soap. He rinses it before scrubbing again. He wasn't gonna go to sleep with a full face of make-up. Besides, the door was locked. He steps out, looking in the mirror. His altean marks are on display now. Funny how he's safe in the confines of his room but the moment he stepped out of it, he'd be killed. He shivers, drying off. He steps out, slipping into his spare set of clothes and setting his alarm. 

He takes one last glance around the room before wiggling his way under the covers. Alright. The first day of training was tomorrow. So far, he was doing great. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry im late. school, and mental stability. i haven’t started writing the third chapter yet, so it’ll be a while.

**Author's Note:**

> First Ao3 Fic! Wish me luck!


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